


Chasm

by cannotdeal_withyou



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Romance, Idiots in Love, M/M, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, dreamnotfound
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:56:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28512276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannotdeal_withyou/pseuds/cannotdeal_withyou
Summary: George and Dream are best friends and nothing can break that. Or can unspoken feelings wedge their way between them, widening the chasm until they both fall headfirst?
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 43





	1. My Dream

Dream’s right monitor glowed in the darkened room, tiny cartoon spacemen running around a spaceship.

On his left monitor was Discord, the call he was in with his friends open on the screen, under that was George’s stream.

He knew most of them were streaming, but George was the only stream he watched religiously, memorizing the way his jaw flexed when he concentrated.

“Dream?” Karl’s voice snapped him back  
to reality and he slipped back into his streaming personality.

“I’m here, sorry.”

“You downloaded that voice proximity mod we talked about, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Dream’s off daydreaminggggg.” George’s picture on Discord lights up and Dream’s heart flips in his chest.

Normal, he thinks to himself, normal.

“Daydreaming about you, Gogy.”

He watches as George freezes for a moment on camera, waiting for his lips to part in a laugh.

Instead, he hears Karl and Sykunno, greeting their own streams, as George mutes himself in the call to answer a few donations and sickly tendrils of shame claw at Dream’s throat.

He knows he has a tendency to push at the unspoken boundary between their friendship and the nagging feelings of something more.

A small ding indicates a message from Sapnap and he sighs, opening it.

_Sapnap: you good? you’re quiet._

_Dream: think i pissed off George?_

_Sapnap: nah he’s just being dramatic for the stream_

Another character joins the lobby and a musical tone alerts Dream that Sapnap has joined the vc.

“Who’s ready to die?” He says with a laugh and Dream can’t help but let his mood be lifted by the inclusion of his best friend.

“You better watch your back, Sapnap, I’m coming for you.” He chuckles, running his character around the lobby while waiting for the game to start.

“Yeah right, as if you’d ever kill me first. We both know you’d kill George first.”

A chime announces George has unmuted and Dream turns his head to watch him speak on the stream. “I trust my Dream- I mean Dream.”

“WHAT?” Sapnap explodes in laughter, Karl following suit.

Dream’s voice has died in his throat, his hands falling off his keyboard to rest in his lap. He quickly mutes his mic for a moment and feigns a phone call.

My Dream.

He would do anything to be George’s.

He unmutes quickly, glad he’s never been one to stream with a face camera.

“Go ahead and start the game, I’m going to be afk for a few moments, just got an important phone call.” He quickly remutes before anyone questions him, ends his stream, stands up in a daze, stumbles to the bathroom.

Cold water runs from the tap and he cups some in his hands, splashing it over his face. It jolts him back to reality, to the place where he can’t let himself imagine George’s hand on his cheek, soft lips pressed against his.

Somehow he gets lost in the vision of George in his arms again, pain welling up in his chest, hot tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

He knows he has to go back to the game but he can’t bring himself to walk back to his computer.

With shaking hands, he pulls his phone out of his pockets and texts Karl.

_Dream: I can’t get back on, please kick me from the game. Sorry to leave so abruptly, but I have to take care of something._

_Karl: It’s all good. Everything okay?_

_Dream: Dont worry, I’m fine. Work stuff I should’ve taken care of but forgot about._

He can hear Karl through George’s stream, explaining that he had to leave to handle a work commitment and knows he’ll have to clean up the mess later.

Instead of walking back towards his bedroom and the computer, he walks softly down the hall to the kitchen.

On the counter is a pad of paper, well loved and full of the words he can’t bear to keep in but can’t voice into the universe.

He picks up a pen and flips to an empty page, pausing for just a moment before the words flow and the tears fall.

_What’s the price of friendship, then?_

_The price of friendship is a heart that aches for his gentle touch on my cheek, the sound of his voice murmuring sweet nothings across the telephone connection. It’s the smiling and nodding while everything inside is shouting to tell him how much it hurts. It’s in the relationship advice given during late nights, when the words about someone else he wants burn my lips._

_The cost of friendship is pain._

_Is it worth the pain?_

Dream frowns and thinks for a moment, before beginning to furiously write again

_Being in the same solar system as him is worth it._

_I would go through unimaginable horrors just to be in a call with him, to hear his voice._

_I will have to learn to control the pain, so I don’t lose him._

_The pain is worth it. He is worth it._

Under the final sentence, Dream marks the date and time, another entry in what began as a grocery list notebook and quickly became a monument of his feelings for George.

The first entry was only two words, written the day he felt butterflies for the first time, the day that he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was utterly in love with George.

It simply read, “Oh no”

Thousands of miles away in England, George noted Dream being kicked from the game and swallowed hard, Karl’s explanation not sitting quite right in the pit of his stomach.

Calling Dream his was a sloppy slip of the tongue, the feelings he’d been concealing for months escaping out of his mouth in a subconscious effort to get back at him for the shameless flirting that meant nothing.

George wasn’t stupid, he knew Dream well enough to know he didn’t have any type of work thing going on.

Plastering a fake smile on his face, he played for about three hours, glancing every once in a while at the red do not disturb next to Dream’s name.

Ending the stream, he made sure the camera was off before standing up and stretching his arms above his head.

Time had gotten away from him, midnight flashing on the alarm clock next to his bed.

His stomach growls and the realization that he hadn’t eaten since the morning before washes over him. He slips his phone into his pocket and heads into the small kitchen of his studio apartment.

The shelves of his refrigerator were disappointingly empty, a jarring reminder that hadn’t really taken care of himself in a month or so.

He stood for a moment, trying to remember the last time he grocery shopped, and couldn’t.

They’d been putting on hours on the Dream SMP, George streaming for almost 5 hours every day, simply because Dream was online.

They’d stop streaming and jump into a private call, talking about everything and nothing, planning streams and coding projects.

George was addicted to the sound of Dream’s voice, the way it got softer when it was just the two of them. He found himself learning the patterns of his speech, craving the way his voice sounded when he was smiling.

He’s never seen Dream‘s face, so he clings to his voice like a raft floating in the ocean.

Going to bed hungry seems to be George’s only option tonight, so he obliges, setting an alarm for early the next morning, vowing to grocery shop before streaming.

He’s drifting off to sleep when his phone chirps on the nightstand and he picks it up blearily.

_Dream: Are you still awake?_

George is suddenly wide awake, reaching over to turn on the lamp next to his bed.

_George: I am now. Are you okay?_

The three dots floating at the bottom of the screen let’s him know Dream is typing, for an eternity it seems.

_Dream: I’m okay. Tired._

_George: Go to sleep, Dream. You have that charity stream tomorrow._

_Dream: You’re upset with me._

Dream held the phone in his hand, chest heaving, panic clawing at his chest. The joke during the stream must’ve been too much, now George is angry with him and he doesn’t know how to be okay with that fact.

_George: I’m not._

_George: I thought you were upset with me._

The panic receeds as fast as it came on and the relief sweeps over Dream in waves of hysterical laughter. He can’t stop laughing, the tension of the day rolling off his body.

_Dream: call?_

George doesn’t respond, choosing instead to press Dream’s name and call him.

“Hey.” He can hear the hesitation in Dream’s voice.

“Hello, Dream. How was your work thing?” He keeps his tone light and airy, trying to float the conversation on the surface and Dream obliges.

“Work thing? Oh, right. Yeah, it was fine.” The lie tastes bitter in Dream’s mouth but he can’t hold himself back.

“I have a coding idea.” George breezes past the work thing because he knows it’s a lie, but he’s not sure if he wants to pursue the truth right now.

The conversation flows naturally until George notices Dream’s voice slowing down, his sentences punctuated with yawns.

“Go to bed, Dream.” He says quietly.

Dream mumbles something that George can’t quite understand and the blankets rustle as he adjusts his position.

All at once, George realizes that Dream is already asleep, asleep on the phone with him and his heart constricts in his chest.

The words claw their way out of his throat, leaving his lips before he even realizes what he’s saying.

He whispers to the sleeping man on the other end of the line. “I love you.”

The relief is immediate, even if he knows Dream didn’t hear it and never will, he said it and how he can begin to get over it.

Half asleep himself, he makes a half ditch attempt to hang up the phone, but his finger misses the button and he falls asleep on call with Dream.

Being on call messes with his alarm the next morning and so he’s late to his grocery shopping goal he’d set for himself the night before.

He doesn’t hang up the call, slipping Airpods into his ears. For some reason, he doesn’t want Dream to wake up alone, so he goes about his morning routine as quiet as possible.

He’s in Tesco when he hears a meow from the headphones and a groan from Dream.

“Patches, please, 15 more minutes.” Dream’s morning voice, gravelly and sleepy catches George off guard and he hits his shopping cart into a end display of soup, cans clattering all over the ground.

He’s furiously apologizing to the store clerk and picking up the cans when Dream says his name, bewildered.

“George?”

He stands straight up abruptly, “Dream?”

“Did I fall asleep on call?”

George chuckles quietly. “Yeah, you did.”

“You didn’t hang up?” It’s less of a question and more of a gentle prod.

“I think I tried but I was pretty sleepy too and then when I woke up it felt wrong just leaving you there by yourself so I put in headphones and took you to the grocery.”

“You’re at the grocery store?”

“Yeah, I realized last night I have nothing to eat in my house.” His stomach growls, reminding him of his hunger.

“You need to take better care of yourself, Gogy.” Dream’s voice softens slightly.

“I know, I know. I better go now though, to finish shopping and you’ve gotta get set up for that charity stream with Mr Beast.” He‘s in line now, waiting for the person ahead of him to finish being rang up.

“You’re gonna join the call though, right?” George can hear Dream booting his PC up through the call.

“Yeah, I think Karl said around 4pm their time, so 9pm for me.”

“Okay, George, I’ll talk to you then, byeeee.” Dream drags out the e in bye like he always does and George smiles, saying goodbye back before hanging up the call.


	2. A Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream goes on a restless drive.

Dream gently presses the spacebar on his keyboard and watches the lights on his PC whir to life.

Thoughts raced through his head, faster than he could grasp them.

_ They fell asleep on call together. George didn’t hang up when he woke up. He dreamed of George, lips close to his, whispering that he loved him. His voice, it felt so real. _

The charity stream flew past him, the public persona he so easily slipped into carrying him along while his mind continued to race. 

He only gave his full attention when George joined the call for a game of Jackbox that quickly dissolved into full on choking laughter from everyone in the stream.

All in all, he supposed, the stream was a success, bringing in a few million for charity and lifting his own mood out of the pits he’d been in.

He opens a bag of chips and walks back to his room while scrolling through twitter when a video catches his eye.

It’s from the stream he’d abruptly left yesterday, George’s point of view. He watches, expecting the words to slip carelessly from George’s lips and is shocked by the way his face pales. There was nothing carefree about the way George looks after the slip of his tongue.

His face is pained, desperate explanations sputtering from his lips. He physically winces when Dream mutes and the smile that he slides on his face after Dream leaves the game all together stays plastered on until the clip ends.

Dream replays the clip, studying George’s face until his eyes blur from focusing for too long. The clip begins to not sound real, his own voice distorting in his head until he drops his phone on the ground, just to get away from it. 

His hands move on their own, picking up his car keys and sliding his shoes on. They pick up his phone, typing in an address he’s had for 6 years but never used.

George being upset with him doesn’t cross his mind until he’s in Alabama, stopping for food and checking his notifications.

20 messages from George were enough to make him pause for a moment, but he downed the energy drink and ate the gas station sandwich he paid too much for instead of messaging him back, getting back into his car to finish out the 7 hours of driving he still has left.

It's nearly 6am by the time he pulls up in front of an apartment building, the hot Texas sun already peaking over the horizon.

His hands shake while he selects a number from his contacts.

The phone rings, once, twice, and then a familiar voice, sleepy and concerned, answers. “Clay?”

“N-Nick?”

Sapnap suddenly sounds wide awake, “What’s wrong?”

“I drove all night.” He looks up at the building. “I’m outside your place.”

“You’re where?” Dream hears rustling on the other end of the line and the blinds on a window near the top of the building move. He raises his hand in greeting and the line clicks off.

He senses Sapnap coming before he sees him burst through the door of the apartment building in sweats and a tshirt. Nick’s arms are wrapped around him before he can even speak and his eyes well with tears at the comfort he didn’t know he’d feel.

Sapnap holds him tighter and all the energy he’d been holding in rushes out of him at one moment. His knees buckle slightly as his body shakes with sobs.

To Nick’s credit, he doesn’t ask questions until he gets food into Clay and lets him sleep for a few hours.

In England, George has been awake nearly 24 hours, his messages to Dream going unanswered, the anxiety building with every time he hears his voice on the voicemail recording.

Finally, seeing Dream’s snap location update to Houston, he’s had enough. Fuming, he calls Sapnap three times, taps his foot impatiently waiting for him to answer. 

When he does pickup, he doesn’t waste any time on pleasantries, bulldozing into the conversation. “Where is he, Nick?”

Sapnap sighs and steps out on the balcony, quietly sliding the door shut behind him. “He’s asleep on my couch right now.”

“What the fuck? Why wasn’t I informed of a meetup?” The anger is gone, replaced with hot spikes of hurt in his chest. 

“He just showed up out of nowhere, said he was driving all night. George, he sobbed in my arms, I don’t know what is going on anymore than you do.” The last sentence came with a bit of a bite and George felt guilty instantly.

“I’m sorry. I’m really worried about him. He hasn’t messaged me back since the charity stream. We normally talk ev- most nights.” 

“He’ll call when he can, I promise. Get some sleep, George, you sound like shit.” Sapnap’s voice slid into that familiar nurturing tone he often adopted with the two of them.

“I will, Sap. Love you.” 

“Love you too, George.” Sapnap hangs up the phone and heads back inside to see Dream sitting up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “You. You have some explaining to do.”

He sits back, defensively, “I had a bad day.”

“You drove 15 hours to me, sobbed in my arms for 20 minutes, because you had a bad day? You ignored George for almost a day?” Sapnap scoffed, “C’mon now, Clay, do you really think I’m stupid?”

Sapnap sees the flash of panic in Dream’s eyes before the tears well up again.

“I think I'm in love with George,” He barely whispers, hanging his head, refusing to make eye contact.

Sapnap sits for a moment, carefully choosing his next words, “So, you’re just now realizing this?”

The shame washes away from Dream’s face, relief flowing over him instead. “Wait, what?”

“I’m gonna have to message Q and get him to pay up on our bet.” Sapnap laughs lightly. “Everyone seems to know, Clay. Everyone but him, apparently.”

“You can never tell him.” Dream’s voice is serious and Sapnap meets his eyes. 

“I promise I won’t.” He thinks for a moment. “You really should though.”

“I can’t-” Dream chokes out. “I won’t.”

“I understand. You really should message him though, he’s worried sick. I don’t think he’s slept in a couple days and you’re definitely not helping.”

Dream lets out a heavy sigh and picks up his phone. The screen comes to life and he winces at the 13 voicemails he sees on his screen, along with the ample messages.

He selects the first voicemail and lets it play, George’s voice coming through the speakers. 

He sounds tired and rundown, concern lacing around every word he says.

Slowly but surely, he gets to the last and most recent voicemail and his eyes widen at the sound of George holding back tears.

“Hey, Clay, it’s me again, um, I’m really worried, and a little hurt, Nick said you showed up there and you were really upset, I, uh, hope I didn’t do anything to upset you but if I did, I’m really sorry. Please just text me and let me know you’re safe.” His voice trembles, “I miss you.”

The voicemail ends abruptly and Dream opens up his texts and begins to draft a text that begins with “I’m safe” and ends with “I’m sorry, it’s nothing you did, I just need a few days for my own mental health.”

He sends the text before he can overthink it again and lays back down on the couch, quickly drifting into a restless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah my sweet stupid idiots in love. Had to get a bit of Sap and Dream in there because their dynamic is my favorite <3


	3. A Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after disaster, George steps back and surveys his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for mental health, slight su*cide mention

Eyes fluttering open, George enjoyed a small moment of peace before the waves of emotion from yesterday come crashing over him again. 

He scrambles to find his phone in the sheets, panic welling up when he fails to find it immediately. 

A low thud echoes as his phone falls to the floor and he stretches out to grab it. The screen doesn’t turn on and he sighs heavily, knowing he let it die during the night again.

Plugging it in, he gets out of bed and tugs a pair of joggers over his hips, opening a drawer and pulling on the first hoodie he touches.

It’s a dull brown, but he knows that isn’t right. He only owns one hoodie that appears this color to him and by a cruel twist of fate it’s the lime green merch hoodie Dream had sent him. 

He remembers how excited Dream had been to send it to him, demanding George turn on his camera so he could watch his reaction.

“It’s my first ever merch.” His voice had softened, “I wouldn’t be here without you.”

George had shrugged the nagging feeling in his chest off at the moment, not knowing that it would come back with a new ferocity a few months later. 

He dug around in the same drawer, pulling out the enchroma glasses Dream had bought him for a video and slid them on. 

His eyes took a second to adjust and the jacket turned from that ugly brown into the new color he recognized as the green it was supposed to be.

Before he could stop himself, his mind wandered to what shade of green he imagined Dream’s eyes to be. 

Imagining Dream’s face was a slippery slope for George and always had been. 

As soon as he imagined his eyes, his mental gaze traveled south, past the nose he just knew was perfect and to the lips he wanted to crash his own into.

When George began imagining Dream’s lips, he began imagining less safe body parts.

It wasn’t fair that Sapnap was still the only person to see Dream’s face. It wasn’t for a lack of trying on George’s part, because he asked at least twice a week, questions about Dream’s appearance and occasionally begging for his own face pics. 

He swipes his fluffy dark brown hair away from his forehead and comes back down to reality. 

The screen on his phone lights up finally, the battery holding enough juice for one single vibration. 

Dream was the only one who’s messages buzzed through Do Not Disturb, a setting he’d done nearly without thinking when they first began talking. 

George never wanted to miss a single word that left Dream’s mind, over text or from his lips.

He catches himself thinking about Dream’s lips again and shakes his head. To distract himself from his own thoughts, he picks up his phone and opens the message. 

_ Dream: I’m safe. I’m sorry for going silent on you. I had a bit of a breakdown and just couldn’t take being alone with my own thoughts for another minute. I guess you know by now that I’m with Nick. Again, I’m sorry, it’s nothing you did. I just need a few days for my own mental health. _

George can’t fight the relief that goes through his body at the small contact from Dream. George understands mental health, knows the way that being alone can pull you deeper down into a black abyss of numb pain, an oxymoron that is impossible to explain until you’ve felt it. 

George was there, deep in that abyss, no more than two weeks before he’d talked to Dream for the first time.

Maybe that was why he’d clung to Dream’s voice, to his messages, because how was he supposed to not cling to the person who’d pulled him out?

He’d follow Dream to the ends of the earth and further if he only took his hand. He wouldn’t have to ask or explain, nothing but the pressure of his palm enough to convince George to abandon everything. 

Tapping his finger against the side of his phone he carefully constructs a reply to Dream. 

_ George: I’m happy to hear you’re okay. Take all the time you need. I’ll be here when you’re ready to come back. Would you like me to cancel the streams we have planned for the next couple of days? No big deal, just have to move them. _

He makes himself a cup of tea while he waits for Dream to answer, absentmindedly staring out the window at the street below.

The cars rush past his building and he wonders how the world still moves when he feels frozen in place by the boundaries he put in place to protect his heart. 

His phone buzzes in his hand and he looks down to see that Dream has finally replied. 

_ Dream: Yes that would be great. Thank you for being understanding. I don’t deserve such a good friend like you.  _

It hits George right in the gut, the word friend. 

It’s such a small but glaring reminder that anything George feels is one sided. 

He has to unshoulder the hurt somewhere, take it off like a heavy backpack and so he crawls back into bed, his cat following him.

He pulls the covers over his head and lets the tears flow down his face until he has no more left to give the universe today. 

The lack of tears doesn’t quench the hurt in his chest like it normally does after a good cry. 

Instead, he’s left with the feelings he can’t deny, but can’t accept.

They hang in the balance between him and Dream, suspended in the internet connection that keeps them in communication. 

He begins to realize that the only way to cut them out of his heart would be to cut Dream out of his life, then instantaneously accepts that plan is never an option and never can be. 

Dream pulled him out of the abyss and George never wants to go back to that place, certainly doesn’t want Dream to fall there either.

So he’ll stay, give Dream as much space as he needs, but still tag along to the best of his ability without alerting anyone, without spilling his feelings from his lips. 

His hurt is worth it, to never have to let go of Dream. 

After all, speaking to him is the closest thing he’s ever felt to Heaven, he’s certain. 

Who is he to give up Heaven, anyways? He’s rationalizing his decision now, making himself feel better about what he thinks may be the dumbest plan he’s ever had. 

Stay friends with Dream.

Stay with Dream.

Hide your feelings and stay with Dream.

Simple and easy, right?


	4. 7 Days, 7 Messages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream finally heads home to something unexpected.

There’s something therapeutic about the way the air feels in Texas, hot and heavy, but in an entirely different way than Florida. Dream has hardly moved from Sapnap’s balcony since the day he showed up, sunning himself in the hot Texas sun like a cat. He’ll be the first to admit that he’s using Sapnap as a distraction from the overwhelming feelings that creep in when he’s alone.

He’s completely cut himself off of social media,cut himself off from all his friends, only checking in with his mom and sisters every morning. According to Sap, the fans were rabid with the need to figure out exactly where Dream had been for nearly a week. He’d never gone so silent before, never for so long without any type of communication. 

Watching Sapnap’s streams had confirmed as much, the 40-50 donations asking where he was ample proof. Nick had his back through it all, simply laughing them off with an “I don’t know” or ignored them all together. 

Planned streams had fallen by the wayside, the SMP lore being pushed back another week.

Nothing felt worse than knowing that he had friends, people who he loved, people that relied on him for content, being let down by him. To his surprise, not a single one seemed even a little bit peeved or put out, each sending him messages of love and support. They’d adjusted their schedules for him and he was eternally grateful for each and every one of them.

George’s streams were heavier chaos than Sapnap’s, everyone assuming they could worm it out of him and pressuring him intensely. Dream was watching one of his Jackbox.tv streams when it all became too much for George.

It was probably the 30th donation that stream just about Dream’s whereabouts when George snapped, pushing his keyboard away from him. Dream was mezmerized by the way his chest rose and fell, his jaw clenched tight, clearly angry. 

He stayed like that for a moment, silently seething and Dream took advantage of his mod powers to throw George’s chat into emote only, a move George acknowledged with a slight nod, unnoticeable to anyone who didn’t know his mannerisms the way Dream did. With a deep breath, he spoke firmly. 

“I know where Dream is and how he is, but frankly, that’s none of your guys’ business. You all need to learn about the concept of privacy. Dream will return when he’s ready and that’s the last I will speak on it. This is a firm warning, if you ask about Dream again, I’m asking my mods to mute you.” 

He got on with the stream, but the mood was clearly subdued and he ended it early and abruptly shortly after.

They still hadn’t talked in the week Dream had been at Sapnap’s, but feeling refreshed, he packed his car back up and hugged Nick hard, his unspoken gratitude hanging between them.

Sapnap handed him a sandwich and let him go, plans for them to move in together in a month or so dancing around their heads.

The realization he was alone again didn’t hit Dream until he was three hours away from Sapnap, a dull melancholy settling in around him. He almost turned around there, almost went back to the safety of companionship, but knowing he had to return home to his normal life, he plodded on sadly.

The hot Florida air stifles him when he gets home, choking him until he’s inside in the cool air conditioning. Patches meets him at the front door, winding around his ankles and purring until he bends down and picks her up carefully.

“Did you miss me, honey?” He asks, petting her head gently. She meows in response, forcing a chuckle from his lips. “It’s okay, I’m back now.” She wiggles out of his arms and it's then that he realizes what a mess he left the house.

Absentmindedly, he walks around and tidies the living room, then the kitchen, avoiding his room and set-up unwittingly. When the house is spotless, he sighs and sits down at his computer, cracking his knuckles and gently pushes the power button.

It whirs to life, the lime green RGB lights illuminating his face. Discord opens automatically when he logs into the computer and he sighs at the 150+ messages he has waiting for him.

He starts at the top of the list, answering questions from Tommy and Tubbo about the next lore stream and makes his way down to George. His cursor hovers over their messages for a mere moment before he clicks them. To his surprise, George has sent him a short paragraph for every day they didn’t talk. That hopeful feeling swells in his chest again, twisting with tendrils of guilt about abandoning his friends.

Taking a breath to compose himself, he begins to read.

_ Day 1: i don’t want to bother you, so when Sapnap told me you were taking a discord break, i figured i’d treat your dms like a little journal instead of texting you. anyways, this is day 1, and i just have to say that i understand why you need a break. it’s all so overwhelming sometimes, this crazy journey we seem to be on. _

_ Day 2: damn, today was wild and busy with family stuff. i barely had time to even eat today (yeah yeah i know, i need to take better care of myself, i can hear you saying it as i type) but rest assured, i did get some food in me. we went to my aunt and uncle’s house and i watched my youngest cousin while the parents had some serious discussions about the state of the world. all very boring, to be honest.  _

_ Day 3: i wonder how long you’re planning on being gone? you never did tell me anything other than a few days, but its been three and you’re not back yet so i guess there’s my answer. you said it wouldnt be forever so i just have to trust that. i did a stream today but it just didn’t feel right. _

_ Day 4: okay fine i’ll say it. i miss you. i miss your stupid humor and your stupid tea kettle laugh. come back soon okay? _

_ Day 5: i saw you in my stream today, turning emote only on. you might think you’re sneaky, clay, but you’re not at all. i hope this means you’re feeling better. i feel awful about the way i snapped at chat, but it’s honestly ridiculous. if i have to respect your boundaries, they really should too. _

_ Day 6: i saw a cute cat today and thought of you. too bad we lost our snap streak bc you’re taking a break, now you’ll never get to see that cute cat. the cat lives in my mind, not yours, ha! _

_ (ps i actually did send you a pic of the cat, you’re welcome) _

_ Day 7: i’m just here, waiting for you to come back. i am so BORED, dream, its not even funny. sapnap told me you’re driving home so maybe i’ll hear from you soon. i miss you. really though, message me when you get this so i know you got home safely. _

Dream is overrun with that warm feeling he gets when he reads things that come from George. It holds him in place for a moment, fingers poised over the keyboard. 

Before he can do anything, a new message from George pops up on the screen.

_ GeorgeNotFound: i know you’re there, it says you’re online _

_ Dream: haha very funny. just walked in the door. you can’t even give me ten minutes to read through my messages? _

_ Dream: by the way, i missed you too, gogy _

_ GeorgeNotFound: i’m really glad you’re home, clay. _

In that moment, Dream feels like life might actually return to normal. Maybe the time at Sapnap’s house is exactly what he needed. Maybe, just maybe, he’s getting over George and it’s far less painful than he thought.

His monitor lights up, an incoming call from George and it hits him that he’s not at all over him. The giddy excitement swells in his chest and he answers it, sliding his headset over his ears.

“Hey, George.”


	5. A Letter of Confession.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream writes a letter he'll never send.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for vague mentions of mental crises

The next morning, Dream returns to the comfort of the worn notebook on the counter, frowning when he realizes he only has a few blank pages left. This notebook, with it’s tearstained pages and scribbled confessions is the closest friend he’s ever had. It possesses the thoughts he’s never allowed to float through the air on waves of sound.

In some ways, the notebook has become a comfort item, the worn corners soft like a baby blanket. The cover is partially torn, his name scribbled hastily across it. The first entry glares at him, the first two words taking up nearly the whole page. 

He visits that page often, on the days the longing becomes too painful to handle. Two words serve as stark warning that his feelings are wrong, so incredibly wrong, they had to be for those two words to be his first thought. 

With a sigh, he flips past it to a new page and begins to write.

_ Dear George, _

_ I can remember the first time we talked in wild color, the specific golden shade of sun falling across my desk and the smell of autumn breeze coming from the open window in my mom’s house. I can hear her and my sisters downstairs, cooking dinner, chatting about their days. I know the time, down to the minute that I first heard your voice. 4:55pm. If you were wondering. Friends don’t remember those details, right? I couldn’t tell you what time I first talked to Sapnap. Do you think I loved you from the first moment I heard your voice, George? Is that why my dreams are haunted by that moment? Is that why I’m doomed to relive it over and over, knowing I’m on the precipice of something that will change my life forever?  _

_ I can’t live with you, George. I can’t live without you. My heart is in a constant vice grip, a pain so visceral it stops my breath sometimes. I don’t think I would live if you left me here, all alone. The thought by itself is enough to make my heart stutter in my chest. It scares me to think about how dependent I really am on you.  _

_ You know, George, I remember that night, the night you called me, drunk and sobbing. I remember the way you sounded so broken and the truth about your mental health fell from your lips. I wish we’d talk about mental health more because that is the most honest we’ve ever been with each other. I never told Sapnap anything we talked about because it was our secret. We pinky promised across the phone line and it was so cheesy but it made my heart soar on wings. A secret, our secret. I wish we could seal that promise with a kiss. _

_ Here I go again, getting off topic, however this is a topic I’d like to discuss. What gives you the right to have such pretty lips? I get distracted when you’re streaming, staring at your lips until they’re all I’m paying attention to. Your lips are second only to the chiseled outline of your jaw where it meets your neck. I bet you’d make the prettiest noise if I nipped you there gently, soothing it with a soft kiss. I’m glad you’ll never read this, George. I would rather sink into quicksand than have you know the way I think about you late at night, when there's nothing to distract me from you. _

_ For all that I love you, a part of me hates you. Hates that you get to live carefree while I wallow in my own selfish thoughts. I hate the way everything you say effects me, spiraling me down into a pit of insecurity and uncertainty. Why do you have to be the sun, George? Why must my life revolve around you? Why must you consume me so wholly? I hardly know where my personality ends and yours begins. _

Dream pauses, a tear he hadn’t realized was brewing falling on the page, smearing the ink of George’s name. A shuddering breath escapes his lips when he places pen back to paper. 

_ Should I just tell you?  _

_ No, I can’t.  _

__

_ I’d lose you in a flash. _

_ That’s one thing I can’t handle, George. Being without you. I need you the way I need oxygen in my lungs, the way plants need sunshine. The worst part is that when we meet, face to face, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle you leaving to return home. I have a nagging feeling that I won’t be able to resist gently settling my hand on your shoulder or brushing our hands together when we walk side to side. Will you even notice the way I yearn for you when you step off the plane? _

_ Will I be enough for you, this face that you’ve never seen? Will the curve of my jaw intrigue you the way yours does me? Or will you turn away from me in disgust? In protecting my privacy, I’ve placed myself in a prison of my own insecurities.  _

_ I don’t think I ever did myself any favors when it comes to you.  _

_ This has become a long and rambling letter that you will never read, so for that, I’m truly sorry.  _

_ I’m sorry that I’ll never be brave enough to see if you and I could be something.  _

_ My heart belongs to you. _

_ Forevermore, _

_ Clay.  _

The notebook closes with finality, the last three pages full of Dream’s letter to George. 

He can’t bring himself to move the full notebook off the counter, so he pushes it behind a loaf of bread and does his best to forget it’s even there.


	6. Nerves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George packs for a flight, Dream grapples with insecurities.

Sapnap comes a month later, to look at apartments with Dream. They’re looking at 3 bedrooms only, an unspoken agreement about a room for George being of utmost importance. 

They find one in Palm Bay, three bedrooms and a view that takes their breath away the first time they see it. Sapnap goes home to pack his stuff and Dream sits in front of his PC, knowing this time that the loneliness is just a temporary ache.

In the few boxes of stuff he temporarily moved, sits the worn notebook, somewhere. He couldn’t leave it behind in the house he owns still with the rest of his stuff he decided wasn’t important enough for the apartment move.

This is nothing but a trial run, Sapnap and him seeing if they’re fit to live together and while neither of them say it out loud, they both know Dream can’t be left alone again. 

He’d called Sapnap in a blind panic shortly after arriving home, the walls closing in on him, the loneliness suffocating him, leaving his breath in short, desperate gasps. 

Nick had talked him down, quiet reassurance turning to words of hope, painting the picture of them living together so vivid that Dream couldn’t help but smile, the waves of panic receding from his shore. 

Convincing George had been harder, the visa process much more intricate than any of them had ever imagined. They were asking George to give up his family and the country he’d known his whole life for at least a year and Dream couldn’t blame him for being hesitant. 

Part of the reason they’d decided on the test run was to assuage his concerns, prove that they could live together peacefully. With bated breath, Dream booked a flight for George, two weeks after Sapnap’s move in date. 

George had laughed about it, joked about what would happen if it turned out Dream and Sapnap couldn’t actually live with each other. He hoped they couldn’t hear the underlying anxiety under his jokes. If Dream and Sapnap couldn’t live together, there was no way George could risk losing them in his life. 

The very first night, Sapnap petting Patches quietly on the floor with some type of soup simmering on the stove that his mom sent with him, Dream knew this would work. 

Two weeks fly by and before Dream knows it, he’s lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow is the day that he’ll see George in person, the day he’ll finally reveal his face to George. 

He likes living with Sapnap, but he knows that living with George will be heaven and hell, two sides of the same coin. He can already tell that he won’t be getting any restful sleep tonight, tossing and turning in his near future.

Across the ocean, George is pacing back and forth, throwing random items of clothing into his suitcase. He knows he should’ve packed earlier than 5 hours before his flight, but it’s too late to think about that now.

He’d sent Dream a complete rundown of his PC setup, hoping for the best but not expecting anything to really come from it. He knew Sapnap and Dream had gone and bought him basic bedroom furniture, a desk, bed and nightstand. Fully expecting to need to make a trip to buy other stuff when he got there, he ran down a mental list of all the things he felt he couldn’t live without. 

On his bed, his phone buzzes twice and he abandons packing immediately to pick it up and read the messages. Messages from both of his new roommates pop up on his screen and he opts to open Sapnap’s first. 

_ Sapnap: So I’ll pick you up tomorrow in front of the terminal. I’ll wear a bright green Dream hoodie so you can see me in the crowd…..i mean a brown Dream hoodie lmaoooo _

_ George: Very funny, dumbass. see you tomorrow. _

Making a mental note of Sapnap’s outfit for tomorrow, George tosses his own Dream hoodie into the suitcase on top of the other haphazardly stacked piles of clothing. 

His phone buzzes a reminder that he still hasn’t opened Dream’s message yet, so he stops packing again to read it. 

_ Dream: is it weird that i’m nervous for tomorrow? _

He takes a minute to process that Dream is nervous for tomorrow and for some reason George is now ten times more nervous than he was just a moment ago.

_ George: I’m nervous too. What if you and Sapnap can’t stand living with me? _

His phone lights up with an incoming call and he doesn’t hesitate, answering it immediately.

“I’m not nervous about that. I know you’ll fit right in with Nick and I.” Dream wastes no time trying to explain himself. 

“Hello to you too, Dream.” George laughs lightly, masking his own curiosity with surface teasing.

“Oh come on, Gogy. You send me a message thinking that Sapnap and I won’t be able to stand living with you, expecting me not to immediately call and reassure you?” Dream’s low chuckle rumbles across the line and George feels his cheeks heat slightly. 

“I’m serious, I’m really nervous about it.” Open vulnerability seems the best course to take, now that he knows Dream is genuinely concerned behind his sarcasm and bluster. 

“I promise you that you living with us is the least of my concerns right now.” 

“Yeah? What are you so nervous about anyway, Dream?” He pushes the boundaries, enough to hear them tense but not enough to break. 

Dream takes a long moment before he answers, his voice dropping so quiet George almost doesn’t hear him say, “Of all the face reveals I’ll do in my career, yours is the most important.”

The wind is knocked out of George immediately, something so dangerously intimate lying just below the surface of Dream’s confession. 

He weighs his options, does he dive headfirst into the river of uncertainty or does he stay safe on the bank?

He finds a middle ground, wading in to his knees. 

“I’m pretty sure your fans are more important than me, Dream.”

Just as quietly as before, the words fall from Dream’s lips, “You are the only one who’s opinion matters to me.”

George’s breath catches in his throat.

“Is that so?” Light and airy, he thinks to himself, keep it light and airy. 

“Of course, Gogy. You’re my best friend.”

Dream raises the wall as fast as he’d lowered it, giving George emotional whiplash.

“Well, I‘m convinced I won’t be disappointed.” Absentmindedly, he puts the enchroma glasses in the suitcase and zips it up carefully. 

Dream laughs quietly on the other end of the connection, “I guess we’ll know in 20ish hours, won’t we?”

George checks his watch and swears quietly, “Shit, I’ve gotta get to the airport. I’ll see you tomorrow, Dream.”

“I suppose you will. Have a safe flight, Gogy. Byeeeee.” Dream hangs up the phone before George can say anything else, so he calls for an Uber and picks up his suitcase, nerves only slightly soothed by the call.


	7. Almost There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream is a nervous cleaner.

Dream hadn’t gotten a bit of sleep after hanging up with George, nerves and anticipation leaving him tossing and turning all night. He turns on music quietly and stretches out his shoulders. In the room next to him, he can hear Sapnap cooing softly to Patches, telling her about George coming to visit. 

He still has a few touches on George’s room to take care of before he gets here, so he gets out of bed and into a hot shower, letting the water wash away his fears. Nick knocks on the door to tell him that he’s leaving for the airport and Dream yells back something lighthearted. 

Turning the shower off, he steps out and towel dries his light brown hair, letting it fall around his face in messy, damp strands. He spent far too long examining his face in the mirror, finally deciding to leave the smallest amount of stubble on his face and accepting that he could do nothing about the stress pimple gracing his left cheekbone. 

He pulls open his drawers and pulls on boxer briefs and black joggers, hesitating over the multiple brightly colored shirts. He first picks up a red t-shirt and then shakes his head slightly, switching it out for a rich blue shirt. He started with picking up and organizing his own room, carefully arranging his set up to look perfect. 

The bluetooth speaker’s volume gets steadily turned up until he’s dancing around his room, singing at the top of his lungs to One Direction. The rest of the apartment is tackled next, the controllers for the consoles attached to the living room television precisely positioned on the coffee table. 

When the apartment smells of fresh lemon cleaning products, Dream finally turns to the room George would be staying in, taking off the hoodie he’d been wearing over his blue shirt while cleaning and throwing it over the back of the gaming chair, sitting down and turning on the PC he’d built for George. 

When George had sent him the specs of his PC at home, Dream had gone out of his way to buy parts that were just slightly better. He had a feeling that George wasn’t expecting much so he’d gone above and beyond, hoping to see his pretty smile of approval. Anxious about the PC running smoothly when George sits down at it for the first time, Dream runs through several programs and ensures there won’t be any hiccups. 

His phone vibrates softly in his pocket, a text from Sapnap letting him know that they’re leaving the airport, about a 20 minute drive from the apartment. 

It all becomes real in that moment, that George is in America, he’s 20 minutes away, he’s going to be in Dream’s apartment in 20 minutes. He shuts down the computer and stands up abruptly, rushing out of George’s room. The sweatshirt that was draped over the chair is knocked to the floor in his haste, pushed under the desk by the wheels of it.

Back to the bathroom he rushes, fixing his hair again and straightening out the creases in his shirt. Patches twirls her tail around his legs, purring softly. Cold counter meets hot palms and he leans there for a moment, talking himself back to calm, cool and confident, despite the churning of nerves in his stomach. 

Meanwhile, George was nervously flipping through radio stations in Sapnap’s car, fingers tapping against the dash in between attempts to find music that soothes him. 

“Are you okay?” Sapnap’s voice breaks his concentration and he’s dragged back down to the reality of the miles counting down to Dream.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just nervous, new country and all.” He laughs lightheartedly.

“I promise I’m driving on the correct side of the road.” Sapnap laughs and George is struck by how easy they’ve slid into an easy rhythm together, years of behind the screen friendship translating easily to real life. 

“You’re getting that look again.” Sapnap slows at a red light and looks over at George, eyes soft. “You nervous about meeting Dream?”

George avoids eye contact, focusing instead on the Gulf of Mexico outside his window. “No, Sapnap, why would I ever be worried about that?”

Sapnap scoffs quietly, “Please, as if you really think I don’t know you’re in love with Clay.”

“I’m not in love with Clay.” George does his best to sound indignant and offended, but knows before he finishes the sentence that he’ll never convince Sapnap.

“God, why does everyone think I’m stupid?” The light turns green and Sapnap makes the left hand turn into their apartment complex. “Listen to me, George. This is never going to work unless you either face your feelings or let them go, okay? For now, just try to act normal when you meet him, okay? He’s nervous too.”

George digests this information while Sapnap parks his car in a numbered spot and digs his apartment keys from his pocket. 

“Just don’t tell him, please?” The seatbelt unhooks with a small metallic click and George’s hand hovers over the handle to open the door.

“That’s not my place, I promise.” Sapnap laughs lightly. “Try not to look so pained, Gogy. You’re about to become the second person from our friend group to see Dream’s face, so look excited for it.”

Inside, Dream watches from the living room window as his two best friends get out of the car and fight over who carries George’s luggage up the elevator. 

In his head, he counts the steps to the elevator, then the steps to the front door. By his calculations, he’s got about 3 minutes at most and 2 at the least until George is in front of him. 

There’s no time for any more last minute preparations, Sapnap’s keys turning in the lock. 

The door swings open and there they are, in front of him.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how long this will be but when inspiration hits, you go with the flow! Heavily inspired by George's Freudian slip on stream the other day.


End file.
